Maverick Ventures
by whereismyymiind
Summary: Chris was not expected to turn out a witch and her mother is forced to reveal her heritage, thus affecting the normally perfectly happy family. As things are spiraling downwards at home, Chris is unlucky enough to bump into James and his crowd first thing on the train. People she would never guess to be the ones who would shape her future life in Hogwarts. And maybe even beyond.
1. Institute for Amateur Magicians

Disclaimer: You know the drill, I own nothing of intellectual value.

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**Chapter 1**

**Institute for Amateur Magicians**

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"Chrissie, dear, breakfast's ready! Rise and shine, sweatheart!" called the voice of a woman in her early thirties as she passed her oldest daughter's second floor bedroom.

This seemed to disturb the young girl's dreams, making her shift in the comfort of her bed. She groaned, "Mm, yeah, I'm up," but just turned the other way and drifted back to sleep.

The door violently shot open with a loud slam.

"CHRISTINA HARPTON!"

The girl jumped into a sitting position from the sudden rise in her mother's tone of voice, tousled mousy brown hair flying animatedly around her sleepy face. Her mother chuckled and made her way to sit on the side of the bed and brush her daughter's locks of hair away as she smiled kindly.

"Come now, Chrissie. Get yourself dressed and come down for breakfast," she cooed, stroking her daughter's hair. "We have a busy day in front of us."

"Mm," the girl voiced, rubbing and blinking the sleep away. "Alright, mum."

"Splendid. Don't be long now."

Her mother rose and exited the room humming and went downstairs to the kitchen to resume her chores, pausing on her way by the table to peck the cheek of a man in a white button up and navy trousers before she returned her attention to the pan of sizzling French toast on the stove. The man smiled to himself briefly, hiding it with a sip from his freshly made coffee by his darling wife as he absentmindedly turned a page of the Sunday paper he was reading.

"Listen to this, Caroline," he addressed the busy woman who was placing dishes around the table. "This tiny segment right here – _Unusual nocturnal aviary behavior; a number of owls sighted in broad daylight all over England._"

The woman stiffened for a brief moment, but managed to compose herself and reply with "My, Liam, how uncanny!"

"Must've been bothered by a bunch of rock-throwing hooligans, I'll bet. Kids these days!" he concluded with undoubtful certainty.

"Really, daddy, really?! Owls! I wanna see some too!" The little eight year old jumped up and down on the chair, excitement twinkling in her big brown eyes.

"Maybe next time we visit the zoo, Shelly dear," Caroline playfully pressed the tip of her youngest's nose, leaning next to her on the table when she heard hurried footsteps down the stairs. "But you mustn't wake them. They're rather fond of sleeping away the day, somewhat like your older sister." The small girl chuckled loudly just when her sister came into the kitchen with the appearance of a recently awoken owl with disheveled feathers.

"Well, morning to you too, Shells! What's all this fuss about me and my distant owly relatives I've been trying to keep secret?" With a wide grin on her face, Chris attacked her little sister in a flurry of tickling, causing the girl to explode in another fit of giggles, causing an amused smile to make its way onto their mother's beaming features.

"Charlotte! Christina!" Liam snapped shut his newspaper to give them a stern look which immediately ceased all movement. "Behave yourselves on the table. You're gonna make a mess of your mother's hard work."

"Sorry." The two meekly subsided, taking their usual places on the table, and started to eat.

"Now, as we all know, it's almost time for school to start, which also means Shelly's birthday's coming up," Caroline began as the family ate, "So I thought it best that we take the opportunity today to go out shopping, seeing as it's such a nice Sunday."

"Today is gonna be fantastic, I just know it!" Shelly's mood immediately improved upon hearing the subtle hint of shopping for presents.

"You not included, squirt. It'll be just me and mum. We'll be getting your presents, remember? And you don't get to see what they are until your birthday. So you're with Liam today," Chris teased, cutting her French toast ferociously, the grin making its way back on her face.

"Aww, really?!" This time Shelly said it with an animated disappointment. "I want to come too!"

"Come now, princess, try not to sound too disappointed that you get to spend the day with daddy," Liam chimed in, a knowing smile playing on his features as he resisted scowling at Chris for the inaudible snort she made at the way he spoke. "As I recall, you wanted to see some owls, did you not?"

"You mean..." Shelly's face brightened at the implication. "We get to go to the zoo! Daddy, you're the best!" As the little girl jumped off the chair with shouts of happiness and latched arms around her father's neck to dangle from it, a click and a flop was heard from the hall.

"That must be the post. Fetch it for me, will you Shelly." Liam set his daughter down and she scampered off.

"Isn't it Sunday?" Chris raised an eyebrow and eyed Liam with amused disbelief at his error.

Caroline froze and her eyes shot to the main direction of the door where her younger daughter had gone to retrieve the mail.

"It's some advertiser then, littering us with flyers. Bit annoying really, that those're still around nowadays," Liam noted, not at all noticing the way his wife nervously brought her fingertips to her stilled lips.

"Daddy?" Shelly's tiny voice sounded from the hall. Chris and Liam turned, confused at the sudden change of mood in the usually cheerful little girl. Shelly slowly entered the room, peering at the front of a strange thick envelope made of yellowish parchment. All they could see was a purple wax seal on the back, bearing some sort of official coat of arms. Shelly looked up at her father, reluctance evident on her small face. "Is Chrissie going away to another school? Away from home?"

Liam and Chris exchanged confused looks. Caroline shrunk in her seat and fidgeted, her knuckles brushing her lips, and fear overcame her like a mountainous wave.

"What are you going about, Shelly? There's no such thing, I assure you!" Liam brushed it off with a snort.

"None that I'd know of, anyway. Sick of me already, are you?" Chris joked, sending Liam a smirk which he regarded with another of his warning looks.

"You're getting bloody close, young lady, throwing around remarks like that." He then turned his attention back to Shelly. "It's probably some scam, sweetie. You can go ahead and throw it away."

"But it's got her room written on it and everything!" Shelly trotted to her father and shoved the strange envelope in his face. "Look!"

Now curious, Chris leaned over the table along with her little sister in attempt to catch a glimpse of the contents of the mysterious letter which knew exactly where she slept. As Liam tuned it over to inspect the wax seal, something which nobody used anymore, Chris saw neatly handwritten letters in emerald green flash on the front of the envelope, clearly addressed to Ms. C. Harpton. It was evident that this could only mean her, Chris Harpton, as her mother had remarried and now everyone else in the family were named Miller.

Liam carefully opened the mysterious old fashioned formal envelope and read silently, raising an eyebrow as his eyes paused here and there. As he did so, Caroline stood mute and unmoving, staring at her half empty plate on the table in front of her with great worry in the pit of her stomach, now and then throwing cautious looks at her husband, her lips in a thin line. The kids just craned their necks in interest, but were too far away to make out anything that was written.

Finally done with the first page of yellowish parchment, Liam shuffled through the rest and scoffed, "What's this? _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_? Hah! A load of nonsense."

Chris raised her brows akin to how Liam was doing a moment ago.

"A magic school!" Shelly exclaimed in wonderment. "Wicked! I want to go too! Can I? Can I?"

"Too bad it's not real, Seashells," Chris teased. "Otherwise I'm sure I would take you with me, you've got my word on it." Shelly pouted when her smirking older sister ruffled her fringe playfully. That letter looked real enough, but she was insistent on joking about it. "We'd pull bunnies out of hats together and everything!" Chris laughed.

"That's a thought," Liam mused aloud. "Must be some kind of institute for amateur magicians. Card tricks, smoke and mirrors, all that rubbish. You'd fit right in, don't you think, Chrissie, since you often like to play the role of the house jester?"

"Ha-ha, you got me, Liam. I just _knew_ you were _full_ of hilarious inputs," Chris threw sarcastically and crossed her arms.

"Watch it, missy." Amusement left Liam and, while once again looking over the letter, he finally chose to address his awfully quiet wife. "These papers however... I must say, they're quite articulately forged. Don't you think so, Caroline?"

Caroline's seat clattered loudly when she abruptly stood up. Everyone looked at her oddly as her hands and lips trembled and she looked at Liam with an apologetic face and deep regret in her eyes.

"By god, Caroline! You startled us! What is it with you?"

She brought a hand over her mouth again to trace her lips with her fingernails and looked away, now avoiding Liam's gaze.

"Mum?" Chris tried, becoming worried herself. Her mother seemed to be having a strong reaction over some bogus letter from a presumably made up school.

"I," she struggled, obviously trying to find the words to explain something complicated. "I should have seen this coming. The signs were all there but I simply chose to ignore them. It seemed convenient at the time." She bit her lip nervously and looked around the room, rubbing the side of her neck. "I'm truly sorry, Liam." He eyed her expectantly. "I know I should have told you... but you never noticed and it never really came up. I thought that since I'm like this now, she wouldn't get the letter, but it was naive of me to think like that."

Chris and Shelly exchanged looks, both having some wild ideas of what their mother could be referring to.

"What are you bloody on about, Caroline? And what's this ridiculous ruse of yours all about?" Liam tried to laugh it off, but his wife kept her solemn demeanor, which made him a bit uncomfortable.

Caroline exhaled a strained breath and eyed her daughters. "Christina. Charlotte." They jumped a little. "I think you should go play outside for a bit."

"What?!" Chris immediately protested. "If this is about _my_ letter, I believe _I_ have a right to_—_"

"Now, if you please." Her mother's look turned uncharacteristically stern.

"But what about shopping! And the zoo!" Shelly didn't miss the chance to voice her own worries.

"Out! The both of you!" Liam stood and raised his voice, effectively chasing them off with sullen looks on their faces.

That day the two sisters sat in the back yard, halfheartedly pushing a worn out ball back and forth on the ground. They couldn't bring themselves to utter a word, trying to listen in on the conversation from inside and when the voices from the house changed, rising to bitter shouts, the two of them stopped playing altogether and just sat in silence. Shelly was evidently trying her hardest not to cry the whole time. They accurately figured out there would be no shopping for schoolbooks and presents, nor a trip to see the sleeping owls, as it eventually got darker and they were ushered in by their tired looking mother. Liam could be seen outside on the lawn in front of the house, leaning on the side of his car with a glass of brandy in his hand and a cigarette in the other. A feint trace of tobacco could be smelt in the air, coming through the cracked window, along with a quiet begrudging mumbling of "all this time" and "witches in the house".

After just the three of them had a unnervingly quiet dinner, Chris went up to her room, changed and threw herself on the bed, wanting all memory of the day to go away as soon as possible. But when Charlotte was tucked in, her mother knocked on the door frame, let herself in and closed the door behind her, giving an effort to smile kindly. Chris sat upright as her mother sat down at the foot of the bed like she had done the same morning.

"Listen, Crissie, I owe you an apology as well. To all of you, actually," she began with downcast eyes, reaching for Cristina's smaller hands. That was when Chris noticed her mother had the mysterious envelope with her. She was placing it in her daughter's hands. "Here. You can read it now."

Caroline smiled warmly as Chris looked back with uncertainty. She observed the thick envelope more carefully this time, taking in the feel of the old fashioned parchment and the animal figures on the unstuck by Liam purple wax seal, surrounding a large letter _H._ Taking out the papers inside, she read the first one:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF  
WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Heardmaster: Filius Flitwick_

_Dear Ms. Harpton,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,  
Morris Hepburn,  
Deputy Headmaster_

Chris stared at the neat emerald green letters, not really sure what to gather of this new information, and looked up at her mother with a quizzical look.

"I don't think I quite understand what this is all about. And do they mean a real owl?"

"Don't worry dear, I'll take care of that," her mother chuckled. With her hands over her daughter's, Caroline took a breath. She always knew this wasn't going to be easy. "Do you remember, Crissie," she peered in her daughter's eyes, warm chocolate meeting deep dark blue, "what I've told you of your father and I?"

Taken aback, Chris hesitated. Her mother rarely talked about her father, Tim Harpton. It usually seemed to bring her much sadness whenever Chris brought up the subject so she gathered her mother didn't like being reminded of his absence. Several things stuck though, such as her mother's reassurances that they were very much in love, that they married really young, right out of school, that her father had very much loved his daughter as well and that he had very dark blue eyes, the depth of which make them seem black, eyes which Chris had inherited and which probably served as a constant reminder to her mother that he was no longer together with them. It sounded like he was either gone or deceased but it didn't really matter because it was hard enough for her mother to speak of him either way.

"Everything," Chris admitted, "because I don't hear much."

"I see." Caroline smiled sadly and looked down as she stroked her daughter's fingers in her hands. "You've come to terms with that." She stopped suddenly and regained her composure, looking back and holding tightly to the girl's hands. "Well, to begin with, and this might come as a bit of a shock to you, but not everything you believe impossible is such."

Chris pursed her lips at her mother's cryptic words as the woman smiled knowingly.

"Let me give you an example, dear. Remember two years ago, the boy who bullied you that developed a strange outbreak of warts on his face? I should have known better."

"What's that have to do with anything? I swore it wasn't my fault!" Chris was quick to defend herself, to her mother's amusement.

"Ah, but what were you thinking about when the boy was bothering you and calling you names?"

Chris fell silent, not really in favor of where this was going.

"That's right." Caroline's eyes twinkled. "And the mysterious mold which appeared in less than an hour all over the toys which I had you pass down to Shelly? You threw a mighty tantrum, if I reckon. I can't believe I had the heart to ignore it."

"It's just_—_" Chris sputtered, "I was really attached to those!"

"Now that I begin to remember, there was also the bloated basketball accident at school. That was quite obvious as well." Caroline chuckled. "So many things are starting to make sense."

"But I didn't! Really!" Chris was getting desperate. "I know I'm not exactly the luckiest of people but I didn't really do any of those things! I couldn't have!"

Her mother smirked knowingly and motioned towards the letter.

"Could I?" Chris stared with disbelief. "There's no way..."

"Now you see as well how many coincidences make a fact."

"I can't believe it." Shaking her head, Chris was in a daze.

"But it's true, dear." Her mother smiled.

"You're sending me to a boarding school for freaks because I curse everything around me and can't control it!" Chris cried out dejectedly.

Caroline backtracked a little, not sure how her daughter could have gotten that impression. She laughed full-heartedly, causing Chris to worry if her mother was pulling her leg.

"No, dear, no," she said after she had composed herself, "Heavens no!"

"So," Chris approached carefully, "I'm not a witch?"

"Not in the sense you think of it, dear," Caroline shook her head lightly. "Don't you see?" She cupped the sides of her daughter's face and smiled kindly, drowning into those painfully familiar and deep dark blue eyes. "You're just like your father and I _–_ a child of the wizarding world."

"Wizarding world?" Chris repeated as her mother lowered her hands to her daughter's shoulders. "There's an entire wizarding world out there? With lots of other wizards and witches? Ones that do magic and that kind of stuff?"

"Well, of course there is," her mother exclaimed, but caught herself, "Well, it's natural that you'd know nothing of it, no thanks to me."

"And this Hogwarts school is there?" Chris prodded further. "Where I'll be able to learn to do all sorts of magic!"

"Yes, darling," Caroline laughed at that. "Well, they don't live in one place only. We, I mean. Wizardkind is all over the world, living in secret societies without the muggles' knowledge."

"_Muggles_?"

"That is the name wizards and witches use for those who are not," Caroline explained patiently. Chris didn't know whether to be bothered by the sudden revelations or get lost in their wonders.

"But why are you telling me just now, mum?" Chris felt it unfair. "Surely there is so much I've missed, so much I don't know!"

Caroline's guilty gaze fell and she smiled to herself. "I know, sweetheart, I know." She was expecting her daughter to say something like that. "But we're forbidden to reveal ourselves to muggles and I didn't think you'd turn out to be magical. Not after..." The woman choked on her words and quieted down, as if ashamed of something. Chris followed her gaze to the hands she rubbed together. "I'm not really a witch anymore, Crissie." Caroline smiled weakly as she refused to meet her daughter's eyes.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Are your powers stolen, mum?" she guessed, "Or are you banned to use them?"

Caroline eyed her daughter carefully, the weak smile causing Chris to guess some of the pain and sadness held in the next sentence uttered.

"It would've been less excruciating if that were the case, sweetheart."

Chris kept her mouth shut for a couple of good minutes before she spoke again.

"Is that why you don't talk about father? Because he was a wizard and you had to keep quiet about it? To Liam. And Shelly."

Caroline's eyes shot up in shock and she looked away, brows furrowed. "Yes, part of it." She resigned her willingness to continue the conversation and stood from the bed. "But I've told you all else I can about him and I'd really rather not say much more."

Chris knew she may have pushed her mother too far. But it seemed like the woman had hidden the truth about the nature of their entire existence from her daughter for a good decade, so she figured her mother could at least give a bit more hints about what her father was like, what he was interested in, what had happened to him. She owed her that much.

"Well, _Miss C. Harpton_," Caroline adopted an official sounding voice. "I hereby welcome you to the world of wondrous magic!" She finished with an over the top bow at the waist and winked at her giggling daughter. "Goodnight darling." She kissed her forehead. "We'll talk more about it when we're off for your books and Liam's safely out of earshot. Sleep well."

Turning the lights out, her mother left, closing the door, but Chris' thoughts didn't. But instead of her mind racing back and forth, trying to completely grasp the notion that she and her mother were witches, part of a whole secret community, the thoughts circled around her father. As much as she'd struggled to ignore the fact that she never knew him, had not even one single memory of him and grew up without him, the notion of Tim Harpton stayed an enigma Chris couldn't rid herself of throughout her childhood. But she never made it obvious, since it might burden her mother, although she could admit to herself that she was sometimes a bit too cold to Liam, as if hinting that she would never let him replace her real father. Not that Liam tried too hard to be a father figure for her, other than taking upon himself to scold her like he was one, but that was another matter altogether.

Now there was another little fact added to her short little mental list of things she knew about Tim Harpton. And even though she knew it was foolish to cling to the thought of him, since her mother always spoke of him, in the rare instances she did, as if he was gone for good, Chris couldn't just let it go. Especially not now when the mental image of him in her head changed to an amazing wizard with dark blue eyes, who would one day appear out of nowhere to save her from her boring life, the boy who bullied her and her friends, the unfinished summer homework and Liam's tantrums and take her with him to the wizarding world where every day would be exciting and magical.

Feeling bad about entertaining that thought when the image of her mother popped up in her mind, Chris rolled over in bed in a futile attempt to still her mind, but the process repeated into a restless night of made up images of her father, random memories of when she made weird things happen and brief recollections of what she heard from her mother and Liam's fight that afternoon, until she slipped into an equally restless sleep, dreaming of castles and dragons and elves, where she was an old wizard with a fake long beard, guiding a heard of hobbits and dwarves to battle a swarm of orcs in a overly large version of her back yard.

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- x x x -

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If you don't hate this it would be great to leave a review. ;)


	2. Landlady of the Cauldron

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Harry Potter, unlike JKR does, and I claim nothing but the roll of toilet paper I bought today with my hard earned money.

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**Chapter 2**

**Landlady of the Cauldron**

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Some days later Liam and Caroline still hadn't spoken without an obvious strained mood in the air and September 1 was just around the corner. It was apparent that Chris wasn't going to be home for Shelly's birthday so their mother suggested that it was a good idea for the whole family to visit London, which was an obvious pretense for Carol and Chris to go shopping for the school items from the list provided by the Hogwarts letter.

"Daddy, will I get a letter too when I turn eleven?" Shelly chirped from the backseat in innocent curiosity.

"Now, now, Shelly. Daddy's driving," Caroline approached kindly, hoping to deter any further mention of the subject, "Don't bother the driver."

Liam frowned deeply and clenched his teeth, trying to keep his attention on the London streets and nothing else, though not just for the sake of driving. He didn't seem to want to discuss anything involving the letter from Hogwarts and rarely spoke since the fight that followed, seemingly deep in thought about something which was troubling him. He couldn't help however but spare an occasional piercing look at the rear view mirror where the other back seat occupant was visible next to his eight year old daughter.

"Am I a bother, Chrissie?" Shelly asked her older sister meekly. It was quite evident that her father's silent treatment was troubling Shelly.

Chris thought her little sister might have considered the whole thing her fault, because the day after the fight she seemed to regret bringing the letter back with her. Not that she wasn't excited when she found that what was written was all true – "I told you it was real!" – but now she was torn between wanting a letter of her own and wishing for everything to be back to normal.

"Of course not, Shells." Shelly brightened at her sister's comforting words. "Rather you're a mighty bother, you are!" Chris finished as-a-matter-of-factly which earned her painful a dab in the side from the smaller child.

"If the two of you don't pipe down, I'm throwing you out of this car right this instant!" Liam caused the girls to jump, surprised by his harsh tone of his voice.

Caroline seemed to be intent on ignoring his outbursts and exclaimed, "Oh, here we are! This is our stop, Chrissie."

Liam's Opel Corsa halted near the curb of Charing Cross Road to let off Chris and Carol.

"Have fun at the zoo, you two!" Caroline beamed at the ones remaining in the car but her husband just grunted and drove off with an uncharacteristically less than enthusiastic Shelly.

"Mum, are you quite sure we can get all of this stuff in the middle of London?" Chris approached with skepticism as she addressed the list she was looking at, now that Liam wasn't there to send dirty looks at every mention about anything to do with the letter. "I highly doubt they sell dragon hide gloves on every corner."

"Not unless you know where to look," her mother threw with a wink over her shoulder.

As she followed Caroline down the busy street, Chris began to question whether the woman really knew where they were going but the thought left her when her mother stopped in front of a small grubby-looking pub which Chris just then noticed. It was odd how it casually blended into the background, for it looked older than the shops on either side. So out of place that it had to be magic for no one else on the street to pay it any attention.

"Come on then," Caroline called while holding the dark door of the entrance, motioning for her daughter to go inside as if it was safe enough for a helpless woman and an eleven year old to enter such a dodgy place. "Everyone knows the Leaky Cauldron."

True enough, Chris could see a distinctive swaying sign with the silhouette of a large leaking cauldron.

"Is this one of those places only for wizards?" Chris wondered aloud, carefully stepping inside the pub.

It was a bit dark and shady, lit by candles. Groups of people gathered around different tables, chatting, drinking, gambling, creating a low buzz. Some of them were somewhat oddly dressed in long robes and strange hats. As Chris and her mother ventured further inside what looked like more of a old fashioned tavern, an upright broom went by, held by no one, as if animated to clean on someone's instructions, just like the hovering teapot two tables away was filling up teacups by itself. When they reached the bar, Chris craned her neck to watch how cups and glasses cleaned themselves in the sink, but her view was obscured by a blonde woman in a long apron.

"Merlin's beard! Caroline! Fancy seeing you come in through those doors after all those years," the landlady waved a finger jokingly.

"And what about you, Hannah?" Caroline crossed arms and smirked. "Look at you! Landlady of the Cauldron. Who would've known!"

"Well, you know what they say, that's the dream."

"Speak for yourself!"

Chris looked back and forth between the two laughing women who seemed to know each other, not really sure how to react.

"Well, well, well," Hannah said when she turned her attention to Chris and bent over the counter to get a better look at her. "And might this young lady be who I think it is?"

"You guessed right," Caroline rested her hands on Chris' shoulders. "Chrissie here is starting at Hogwarts this year."

"My, how time flies!" Hannah beamed at Chris. "You must be positively excited!"

"Who's starting at Hogwarts?" a surprisingly normally dressed man joined their conversation, leaning casually on the bar.

"Neville!" Caroline exclaimed.

"Long time no see!" He offered a polite smile to Caroline and her daughter. "You up and disappeared after..." He cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly. "Well... you know."

"After I became like this, yes," Caroline smiled sadly to herself, also looking away.

Chris sensed from the way they were avoiding the subject that someone losing his magic was something shameful and not to be talked about among wizards.

"Oh, where are my manners," Hannah interjected to dispel the tension. "I forgot to mention Neville and I are married now! We live right upstairs."

"Really now!" Caroline was glad to talk about something else. "I never would've guessed the two of you would end up together!"

"Neither could I! How people change, huh?" Hannah laughed and looked lovingly at Neville who shyly smiled to himself, rubbing the hairs of his neck. "Which reminds me, he's now teaching Herbology at school. Professor Longbottom! Can you imagine that?"

Caroline chuckled. "As strange as it sounds, it kind of suits him."

"I wonder why but I get the feeling you girls are making fun of me." Neville sighed in exasperation with a small smirk which only made the women laugh again.

"Some things never change," Hannah let herself say and they slowly fell into an uncomfortable silence, during which Chris sent her unwavering questioning gaze to her mother.

"Um, right, this is Chrissie," as if just remembering her daughter was there, Caroline looked down at Chris and motioned towards her old friends. "Chris, this is Hannah and Neville Longbottom. We went to school together."

"Though we were in different years," Hannah interjected, "but your mother and I were housemates!"

"Oh, um, hi!" Chris opted with a feint of a smile, not even bothering to ask about what Hannah meant by "housemates". She was too busy with the realization that this was the first time meeting people who knew her mother as a child. "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure." Neville beamed and offered a handshake which she hurriedly took. "Guess I'll be one of your teachers at Hogwarts. Hope you'll find at least a bit of an interest in the study of herbs and plants, both magical and otherwise. It's really quite fascinating, Herbology, controversial to popular belief," he started to explain as Chris nodded her head stupidly, trying to imagine how that would be different from regular Biology.

"Now now, Neville, try not to bore the young lady before she's even had her first day at school," Hannah joked to stop her husband from rambling, much to his disappointment.

"Yes, on that note, we have a lot of shopping to do, don't we Chrissie? Would you do us the honor, Neville, since I, well, you know." Caroline smiled awkwardly.

"Ah, yes, yes, of course!"

Chris and Carol bid their farewells to Hannah and Neville led them through the bar, to the back of the pub and out into a small chilly courtyard with nothing but four walls, a couple of wooden crates and several empty drink bottles with strange shapes among some weeds. Under Chris' curious gaze Neville produced a smooth wooden stick, looking suspiciously close to what might represent a realistic magical wand, and using its tip he proceeded to tap some of the stone bricks on the opposite wall with measured precision. When he retrieved his wand, a small rumble was heard as stone quivered and wriggled, making a small hole, which got wider and wider as the process continued until the whole wall opened to a view of a crowded street with peculiar shops that twisted and turned out of sight.

"This, Chrissie," announced Caroline, smiling broadly with her eyes shining with something akin to happiness tinged by melancholy, "is Diagon Alley."

It was hard for Chris to hide her excitement as she and her mother crossed the opening and entered the street. She almost jumped at the sudden noise of the brick wall closing by itself behind them with Neville giving them a little wave before the stone bricks hid the view of him. It was even harder not to gape slightly every way she turned as they walked down the crowded street. Her mother had to grab her by the hand so Chris wouldn't fall too much behind, busy staring at the window of a shop with curiously shaped chocolates and sweets some of which changed taste and color or did little dances. And her mother had to pull her away every time she caught her daughter making a group of three long-bearded wizards uncomfortable when she stared at their odd robes, hats and spectacles for a bit too long.

"Come now, Chrissie," her mother reminded as she tugged her away from a cage full of baby bats in front of an obscure pet shop, "we need a to get a bit of gold first."

"Gold?!" Chris questioned, her bewilderment evident.

"That's right, from Gringotts," her mother said nonchalantly, like it was the most normal thing in the world and there was nothing wrong about them looking for gold at this time and age.

Caroline led her daughter up the white stone steps of an imposing snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Chris drew closer to her mother's hand on their way through the large bronze doors as they passed a pair of uniformed guards at the entrance which bowed politely to half her height. Standing up some inches shorter than Chris, they had swarthy clever faces, pointed beards and unnaturally long fingers and feet.

"Mum," Chris whispered urgently up to her mother, "what are those?"

Eyeing carefully the second pair of guards at the silver door that followed, Caroline hushed back quietly, "Goblins, Chrissie. You'd do well to remember they don't like being referred to as _it_ almost as much as they don't tolerate thieves."

They entered a large hall made of marble lined with numerous doors through which people were led in and out by other goblins. Grandiose chandeliers of clear crystal and shining gold hung in mid-air under the high ceiling and the hundreds of candles had dripped stalactites of wax reaching down, but the marble floors looked unstained by even the tiniest of drops. Chris and Carol made their way to a tall counter where numerous goblins were busying themselves with heaps of precious stones, gems, gold and paperwork.

"Good day," Caroline approached a goblin who looked like he was waiting for customers. "May we make a withdrawal?"

He eyed them tiredly under long white eyebrows and drawled in a monotone, "Certainly. Name and key, madam?"

"Ah, yes! Of course!" Caroline promptly let go of Chris' hand to nervously rummage through her handbag. "Caroline, er, Selborne," she stammered as she opened a small old wooden box and took out a rusty little metal key to slide it onto the counter in front of the goblin. She snapped the small wooden box shut before the tiptoeing Chris could sneak a peek further into its purple velvet insides. Chris shot her mother a disgruntled look, most of which was because she had just now found out what her mother's maiden name was, not that she had ever asked about it prior to that day anyway.

The smartly dressed goblin with the long white eyebrows examined the small old fashioned key with his strict gaze, turning it over twice in his long calloused fingers. He then produced a large thick book from behind the tall counter, slamming it on top, which produced an exhale of dust to shoot out from between the long untouched yellowed pages of parchment. Flipping over a few of them somewhere in the middle of the book, he traced a long finger down a list of faded out characters and numbers of a strange and unknown to Chris language. The goblin double checked the key and finally looked straight at an already fidgeting Caroline.

"It appears your vault no longer exists, madam Selborne," the goblin drawled, not at all perturbed by this information and to Chris' small shock he turned the small rusty key between his long fingers once again, somehow making it crumble to a tiny heap of ashes on the counter. "Its contents have last been reallocated upon your marriage due to the absence of another heir to the family line."

Chris perked up at that. The goblin obviously meant her mother's first marriage to her father as Chris doubted Liam would own a vault in a wizarding bank.

"Ah, yes," Caroline avoided the looks of both Chris and the goblin to stare at the remains of the small rusty key, "I should have guessed."

"Which also means you have access to your husband's family vault where the contents of yours have been reallocated," the goblin aided, "Should you have brought that key as well of course."

Caroline fidgeted with the small old wooden box in her hands as if the thought of taking money from her previous husband sounded highly unappealing. Nevertheless, she popped the box open again with a sigh, taking out another small old fashioned key, made of pure clean spotless silver with an interesting design, and propped it onto the counter carefully, as if it were a precious object by itself.

"Mortimer Harpton," still avoiding her daughter's eyes, Caroline announced clearly to the goblin and brushed an imaginary stray hair behind her ear.

Chris whipped her head from the form of the enchanting tiny silver key to stare at her mother's reddening uncomfortable face. She never told her Tim wasn't her father's whole name. Chris felt cheated.

The long-eyebrowed goblin looked at that key closely as well and checked his book before he turned his head back to Caroline.

"Everything's in order, madam. I'll have someone take you to your vault."

Then he called another goblin with small beady eyes who had been waiting patiently by one of the doors. He led them through one of the doors as he held it open. The setting was entirely different to the strict marble of the previous hall. They seemed to be inside a cave tunnel lit by flaming torches, the narrow stone openings of which traveled deeply under in a steep slope. The apparent method of getting around in such a harsh environment was the aid of the little railway tracks stuck to the stone ground. The tiny-eyed goblin let out a loud whistle and a small rattling cart appeared from behind the corner.

After they boarded, the ride seemed so wild and dangerous that Chris felt the need to keep her eyes closed against the rushing air. But after a while she got used to the wind in her hair and the rattling speed of the cart which seemed to steer itself, so she opened her eyelids. Views of underground caverns and carvings, rocky tunnels and unidentifiable creatures lurking in the dark spread before Chris in an instant. With a sudden almost vertical drop downwards, Chris shouted and clutched the front of the cart as if on a roller coaster but then her voice was cut off by a sudden lurch upward into the previous horizontal position, a sharp turn and an abrupt stop of the cart. By the sight of the seemingly floating platform in front of a narrow metal door on the passage stonework, she realized they had reached their destination.

The beady-eyed goblin unlocked the door which for some reason emitted a gust of thick gleaming steamy white smoke that stuck to the rocks all around them. The door opened slowly and the wet stones shone the same as the piles of gold, bronze and silver sprawled onto the floor of the vault in tiny mountains. Chris couldn't help but gape as her eyes widened. Even without the knowledge of how much was this small fortune in regular currency, she knew that her father must have definitely been better off than Liam.

Before she could ask if most wizards had that much gold in the bank however, Chris' mother snapped at her with "Don't stare like that!" The woman quickly snatched a few coins from each different pile into a small velvet bag from her purse and was quick to exit the vault and hop back into the cart, her desire to leave as soon as possible more than evident. "We're done here, let's go."

"But mum, what are these?" Chris who had stepped into the vault called over while examining a small mirror which seemed to reflect everything except herself. She had just noticed there were shelves on the walls with various objects beside the coins on the floor.

Caroline's hairs stood on the back of her neck and she shouted back at her daughter, "Christina, don't you dare touch anything in there! Come back here this instant! I said we're leaving!"

Almost dropping the small mirror as she jumped from the sudden change of volume in her mother's voice, Chris hurriedly left the item on the shelf and ran back to the cart with a small pout.

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- x x x -

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I hope you feel like reviewing!


	3. Oak and Holly

Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKR, according to popular belief and I hardly claim the opposite.

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**Chapter 3**

**Oak and Holly**

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Back outside Gringotts, Chris was really starting to feel that there was more to her father than her mother had told her, but she also felt that there was not much she could hope to pry out of the stubborn woman to begin with. So she settled with the silence between them that had begun to build up and resulted in Chris currently frowning at her feet and her mother avoiding to look her way.

"Look, Chrissie," Caroline began with a sigh, looking at her slim wristwatch, "why don't you go get your school robes and I'll pick you up after I get your books? We're a bit behind schedule. You can handle that much, can't you?"

"Sure," Chris grunted as her mother ushered her inside Madam Malkin's robe shop and disappeared in the crowd of wizards and witches among the street. The girl ventured beyond the foot of the entrance and stopped by a mannequin in an odd ensemble of purple and emerald robes, looking like something from a story book.

"Welcome, dear." A smiling witch in mauve approached her. "Hogwarts no doubt? We get the lot of them, another came in just a minute ago."

True enough, in the back behind the witch one of the assistants was fitting long black robes with taps of her wand to the thin weedy built of a black haired pale boy standing on a small footstool. Chris's eyes were still glued to the boy even after she was guided to hop onto another stool beside his and a long robe was slipped over her head as the witch began adjusting the fabric with her wand. She was wondering if the boy had known he was a wizard all his life and what could that life be like, how his interests were different and in what way was his home more magical.

The boy spared her a glance. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, uh, no, I..." Chris realized she was staring and looked away to instead watch as her sleeves shrank by themselves to an appropriate length urged by taps of the assistant witch's wand. "You're going to Hogwarts, too?"

"Naturally," he answered without much enthusiasm, "it's the only school for us around here either way."

"Right. Of course. Naturally." Chris laughed nervously.

"You only just found out about that, didn't you?" the boy caught on.

"Well, I..." Chris fidgeted, having doubts that she was making much of a good impression.

"Which must mean you were brought up by muggles."

"Not exactly," Chris corrected, uncertain if being brought up by what she considered ordinary people was a good thing or not, "My mum remarried and I just recently found out that she and my father were wizards. Didn't play well with the wicked stepfather though."

The feint of a smile flashed on the boy's pale face but it just subsided into a smirk. "Don't worry, it doesn't really matter much nowadays. Discrimination is to be frowned upon."

"Oh. That's good." Chris heaved a small sigh of relief. She thought that it was going to be hard being different, but maybe not so much.

"Of course a few families still secretly cling to the old ways," the boy added, "but that's to be expected. At least they're smart enough to not let it show."

"The old ways?" Chris furrowed eyebrows.

"Before the war," he clarified but Chris became even more confused. "Honestly, have you really been told nothing?!" To his exasperation Chris managed to shrug slightly under her oversized robes. For a minute there the boy seemed to be inwardly struggling to refrain from groaning, only showing his frustration with her ignorance by pressing his lips together in a straight line. "I guess I'll have to try to explain this as simple as possible. To begin with, some of the wizarding families didn't exactly approve of muggleborn wizards."

"You can be a wizard even though your parents aren't?" It hadn't crossed Chris' mind that there could be that kind of possibility. "Cool!" She imagined that for those kids, finding they were wizards and witches must have been a similar experience as hers, which made her a bit glad that she wasn't the only odd one out.

"As I was saying, most of those who considered themselves of_ purer blood_ didn't think it was _cool_. Called them _mudbloods_," with a slight frown he muttered the word like it was some kind of insult that he didn't really like saying aloud himself and the whole notion was one that he strongly disagreed with, "These blood purists apparently considered wizards and witches of muggle blood _unworthy_ of the magic they supposedly _stole_, which is obviously a complete load of bollocks."

"Well that's just silly." Chris wrinkled her nose. As an outsider herself she felt no less different than a muggleborn and all of those notions of purer and dirtier blood sounded like something thought up by some narrow-minded friendless git. She chuckled at the image she conjured in her head of a grumpy little kid acting high and mighty and calling people names when things didn't go his way.

"It might be funny to you now but back in those days twenty years ago there was this really dangerous dark wizard who took it to the extreme and hunted all muggleborn wizards in his quest for domination," the boy spoke like there was nothing strange about that information but Chris was a bit thrown back by the revelation that dark wizards seemed to be a common thing and one of them had been at large not that long ago. "Some of the self-proclaimed purebloods became his followers, Death Eaters. So there was this war between them – the dark wizard and his followers – and those who were against his twisted ideals. You could easily guess who won in the final draw, considering I'm able to talk freely about this subject and remain with all of my tongue tonsils intact. The Battle of Hogwarts is added to our Hogwarts History and Recent History of Magic books either way."

"Wow," Chris awed, "there's nothing remotely hinting about anything like that in our history books, I mean, muggle ones."

"Of course there wouldn't be," he huffed, "We have a way of hushing things down before they get out of hand. Wouldn't want to reveal our existence to the muggles again and have a go at modern day stake burnings." From the way the boy gave a small snort, Chris had to convince herself that he was most likely making some cultural inside joke.

"You're done, dearie," the witch assistant told him and the black haired boy stepped down from his stool.

"Name's Charles Nott," he turned back and said to Chris' surprise.

"Oh, uh, Chris Harpton?" She opted for a polite smile, not sure why they were also offering their last names despite their young ages, but obliging anyway. It was probably another thing all wizards and witches did.

"See you at school then." And with those words he left the shop.

Just when the other witch had finished with Chris' robes, her mother came to get her, carrying an antique looking wicker pet carrier.

"Look what I got you on the way back!" Caroline beamed and raised it like a suitcase to let Chris see through the wire mesh door secured by faux leather straps. "This is Samuel. Isn't he wonderful?" Inside the shadows of the basket an eerie pair of glowing green eyes shot open and glared from the darkness as the outline of a black cat became visible with not one, but a pair of ebony tails swaying behind its back.

"Tell you the truth, mum, I actually had more of a baby bat in mind." Chris was a bit disappointed, since she was eyeing the small chubby bat from that cage swarming with the nightly creatures in front of the obscure pet shop right next to the Owl Emporium. Still, at least her mother's attempt of a peace offering worked perfectly to dispel the tension between them.

"You can be a little more grateful, you know," her mother shoved a finger in front of her face and Chris could have sworn Samuel the black cat had grimaced at her and let out a small growl as if he understood English and that she preferred flying blind rats over such a graceful creature like himself. "Besides, it's either a toad, a cat or an owl. A toad was a rather unpopular choice even back in my day and an owl is obviously going to be a bit too much for Liam to bear having in the house, you'd have to agree, even though the birds are quite useful for letters and such, so whether you like Sammy or not, you're stuck with him from here on out."

They proceeded buying the other items from the list and finally found themselves in need of a wand. Stepping into Ollivanders, a shop run by a line of wand makers since ancient times, judging by the date written above the entrance door, they made a small bell ring from the innards of the shop and as Chris gawked at the hundreds and hundreds of small narrow boxes fitting every inch of wall space from floor to ceiling, footsteps came through the silence, followed by the sight of a tall smartly dressed man with gray-streaked hair.

"Why, hello, ladies," he grinned widely at them. "First wand is it?" he addressed Chris and she nodded, a bit unnerved by his nonchalant behavior. "Extend your wand arm then."

When she did so, gathering that it meant her dominant one, he pulled out his wand, flicking it at a long tape measure on the nearby counter with silver markings which sprung to life, unwrapping itself to shoot towards Chris, rapidly taking measurements of her right arm by itself. The man also animated a short quill over a small piece of parchment which hovered around Chris, taking notes of the different measurements that the tape took, which was now measuring between her chin and her bellybutton, then from her hairline to the top of her nose.

"Alright then, ladies, make yourselves comfortable, while I call upon Mister Ollivander." The man waved his wand once again at a couple of chairs to come up behind them, bumping them gently from behind the knees and thus making them sit just when the tape measure, short quill and parchment retreated to their starting positions at the counter, seemingly done with their job. Chris and Carol exchanged looks and the action told the girl that her mother didn't actually recognize this person one bit, despite claiming that this was the best wand maker around. Snatching up the piece of parchment with the odd measurements, the man suddenly yelled "Dad!" and stalked behind the curb made of neatly stacked boxes.

"Goodness, Roderick, keep your voice down! I've not gone deaf yet, mind you!" croaked a very old shriveled man, coming out from behind the same corner, trotting up to the female duo on an oddly shaped spiral cane that seemed like it shouldn't be able to hold his weight without the wood snapping. It appeared that the old man had been quite near when his son had decided to raise the volume. "Excuse my assistant's manners. He's supposed to be in the final stages of apprenticeship, close to inheriting the family workshop, but, as you can clearly see, he's far from ready."

"Just admit it, old man, you'd simply hate to leave this dusty dirty old shop in someone else's dusty dirty old hands." A widely grinning Roderick came back with a number of narrow boxes in his arms.

"Nonsense! I'm just worried if I'm leaving it in the right hands s'all," Mr. Ollivander grunted but smiled despite himself. "And I'll have to remind you that I've had to rebuild this place at the end of the previous millennium!"

Then, as if just noticing exactly who had ventured into his shop, he beamed gleefully at Chris and her mother, causing the former to shift uncomfortably in her wooden chair.

"My, my, how time flies indeed." He trotted on his cane to get a closer look at Chris. "Little Miss Harpton no doubt. I believe you've been told at least once already, but those bottomless blue pits of darkness you have for eyes are a remarkable replica of your father's." He nodded to himself as he stared at her unblinkingly. Chris wasn't sure how much of a compliment that was meant to be but it was unimportant in comparison to how she could practically sense her mother's growing uneasiness at yet another mention of her father in the span of just a few hours. "It's as if these are his eyes I'm looking at," Ollivander's ghostly white wide pale eyes danced back and forth between hers with unhidden wonder, "so innocent, so hungry for knowledge and adventure, just like when I sold him his first wand," he continued his venture into the past, peaking Chris' interest. "Eleven inches. Red oak and dragon heartstring. Decidedly unyielding." He seemed to take a short intake of breath as his gaze fell down and he exhaled slowly, "pity..."

"Mr. Ollivander!" Caroline exclaimed, trying to deter his attention to herself. "It's been long, hasn't it?"

"Ah, yes!" The old man's eyes lit up again and he moved onto Chris' mother. "I remember you! Caroline Selborne, or at least you used to be when you first came in here. Holly with unicorn hair, am I correct?"

"It served me well. I was quite fond of it." She smiled awkwardly, sensing that this was also a direction of the conversation she did not wish to discuss further, but too late to stop it.

"Yes, yes, I'm glad it did, I'm glad!" Then the old man's smile saddened. "Until they had it broken that is. Well, as the old saying goes, _when his wand's oak and hers is holly, then to marry would be folly_. But that's just a baseless superstition, mind me."

Caroline fell silent as her daughter stared back and forth between her mother and Ollivander, almost certain that people who knew her mother long ago were once again avoiding talking about certain things openly. If that Charles boy from Madam Malkin's claimed that in current times discrimination was something to be frowned upon, then all this fuss around her mother's loss of magic was quite odd, especially when it involved any mention of her father.

"Well then," Roderick called behind the old man. "I've picked out these to begin with," he motioned towards the narrow boxes on the counter next to him.

"Of course, of course," Ollivander seemed to snap out of it, "on to business!"

He trotted on his spiral cane to the counter and lifted up a pair of thin rimmed glasses from a slim chain around his neck to examine the measurements that the tape and short quill combo had taken. Then his eyes skidded across the labels of the narrow boxes. When he couldn't find a fault in the array of wands his son had selected, he lifted his pale gaze to a triumphant Roderick and furrowed eyebrows.

"Alright then, Ms. Harpton." The old man turned sharply to smile politely at a puzzled Chris. "English oak and dragon heartstring. Twelve and three quarters. Slightly springy."

Roderick stepped up and efficiently unwrapped one of the boxes, handing Chris a thin dark brown wand which seemed a bit too long when she took it in her smaller hand. She turned it around a couple of times, wondering if all wands looked like unevenly shaped wooden conductor sticks.

"Go on, try something, don't be shy," the assistant urged and Chris realized that everyone was observing her as if they expected something to happen.

"Oh, um, okay." Chris stood and turned around, about to tap the side of her chair like she had seen Professor Longbottom do with the brick wall at the back of the Leaky Cauldron. However, the wand jumped by itself out of her hand without a warning and rolled a couple of steps away from her. She stood frozen and gaping at the now empty length of space from her hand to the chair that the rude object had previously occupied and she heard her mother stifle a laugh at the expression of surprise and dejection her daughter was making.

"I guess not," Mr. Ollivander clicked his tongue and motioned at Roderick to retrieve the wand. "Don't be too surprised, Ms. Harpton, if you find yourself lacking an affinity to magic of the natural world, both plants and creatures."

Chris now turned to the old man with the same surprised and dejected expression wondering what being rejected by a wand had anything to do with Herbology until she felt the need to direct her gaze at her mother for adding, "That might be quite a disappointment for Professor Longbottom, don't you think?"

"Never mind, let's try something with a more playful nature," Ollivander didn't miss a beat, "Dogwood and phoenix feather. Ten inches. Surprisingly swishy." Almost immediately, another wand was handed to the girl by Roderick. "It's one of my personal favorites, dare I say." A giddy smile made its way to the worn features on Ollivander's face.

Chris gave it a flick, clutching the long brown stick in fear that it might also leap out of her hand almost like it could sense her growing uneasiness. The wand just let out a choking noise and ejected, or more accurately, _coughed _with an audible accurate sound a gust of something that was a mix between soot, dust and ashes in Chris' face. Caroline struggled to stay serious while Roderick retrieved the wand and conjured a small jet of water to clean the girl's blackened face of shock and confusion, then a steady stream of warm air to dry it off.

"Don't fret yourself, Ms. Harpton. We're getting closer, I assure you," Ollivander shook his cane at the distressed girl which took upon herself to mutter offences under her nose addressed to her mischievous inanimate attacker in a way that her mother wouldn't hear to scold her for her use of language. "How about larch with dragon heartstring for a little bit of extra confidence? Nine and a half inches, quite flexible."

Roderick gave her a wand of attractive warm yellowish wood, this time short. She briefly mused if there was any point at all to all the strange measurements the tape with silver markings took. Being more careful this time, Chris adjusted a half-firm half-loose grip on the wand and waved a wide circle with measured caution in the general direction of the opposing wall of narrow boxes. Nothing happened. With a frown, Chris thrust the wand forward a few more times for good measure but when that didn't seem to have any visible effect, she slacked her stiff posture and shot the others and exasperated look of helplessness. Mr. Ollivander however seemed to still be waiting for some kind of reaction and his wait proved fruitful when a barely natural movement in the back of the shop reached Chris' ears. As the four of them peaked around the corner, the sound of shuffling boxes resonated and then halted just as suddenly and randomly as it began, like a tiny earthquake had just occurred without shaking the ground or rafters.

"Hmm, not quite, not quite," Mr. Ollivander pursed his lips and rubbed his chin. He then cleared his throat and ordered once again, "Ash and unicorn hair. Twelve and a quarter inches." Without a word, Roderick unboxed and handed Chris the appropriate wand. "Fairly bendy."

Not unlike the first wand of English oak, the ash wand was of similar brownish color, the difference being that it was very slightly shorter, half of an inch less to be exact, and more noticeably, it wasn't as rugged and uneven as the first one, although it did have strange shapes and carvings curving and crossing along the length of the handle, two more prominent ones of which seemed to mark where that handle began and ended. A rather enchanting piece of craftsmanship as were the other wands of course, yet different somehow. But it wasn't the way it looked that made it different; each wand was miles from the other, each seemed special somehow, it wasn't that, no. Chris couldn't possibly begin to describe it in her eleven year old mind but it was like she could feel the difference, even though it sounded silly to her, but she was fairly sure that she could, for lack of a better understanding, _sense_ _it_.

It wasn't until she heard the gleeful gasps of the three other people in the shop that Chris realized she was so immersed in that single piece of wood for that very first touch that she had been completely oblivious to the warmth that had spread from her fingers to her arm and body. Her heart raced excitedly in her chest and a strange force briefly made her feel lightweight, which was probably the same reason that the ends of some of the locks of her hair were falling back down to their places as if they had been suspended in a warm gentle spring breeze or like an electromagnetic field had just passed through her and the initial static was dispersing throughout her body. It wasn't that the ashen wand was causing this anomaly by itself, it was more like it was channeling something that was already present, acting as a voluntary extension, as nutty as it might have sounded in her head.

"Marvelous! Simply marvelous!" Mr. Ollivander called out, thumping his cane soundly on the ground. As he did so, Chris also noticed that her little wand immersion had also caused a number of wrappings and parchments to swivel in a circle on the floor around her where the dust had gathered in curious shapes akin to those carved upon the handle of the twelve and a quarter inch wand in her hand. The third time Ollivander hit his swirly cane to the floor however, the shapes dispersed back to the normal boring dust that previously was. "Ah, such a magnificent moment when a wand meets its rightful witch or wizard, is it not Roderick?"

"Positively!" the equally as elevated apprentice wandmaker agreed in a heartbeat.

"But I haven't done anything yet," Chris relented, although in all truthfulness she didn't really want to part with this ashen wand that seemed truly a load more hospitable than the previous ones, not that she could put her head around a notion as improbable as a wooden stick having feelings or a mind of its own. Almost like they could read her thoughts, Ollivander, Roderick and her mother smiled knowingly at her and exchanged meaningful looks, which made her feel a bit awkward that she was once again failing to understand something which was apparently supposed to be obvious.

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Ash and unicorn hair

The ash wand clings to its one true master and ought not to be passed on or gifted from the original owner, because it will lose power and skill. This tendency is extreme if the core is of unicorn. Old superstitions regarding wands rarely bear close examination, but it is believed that the old rhyme regarding rowan, chestnut, ash and hazel wands (rowan gossips, chestnut drones, ash is stubborn, hazel moans) contains a small nugget of truth. Those witches and wizards best suited to ash wands are not lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes. However, the brash or over-confident witch or wizard, who often insists on trying wands of this prestigious wood, will be disappointed by its effects. The ideal owner may be stubborn, and will certainly be courageous, but never crass or arrogant.

Twelve and a quarter inches

Long wands tend to suit those with big personalities, of a more spacious and dramatic style of magic.

Fairly bendy

A wand with this flexibility tends to be very loyal to its original owner; if it finds itself in a new owner's hands, it will make itself difficult to work with, but with time, it will eventually warm up to a new owner. This wand is not exceptional at any particular branch of magic but is well-rounded enough that it will do well or average in every area. Owners of a fairly bendy wand are well-liked but pride themselves on trying to stand out from the crowd. Unfortunately, some of them may be quite susceptible to peer pressure, usually brought on by being in a group considered "different" from others.

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- x x x -

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I'd be happy if you chose to review.


	4. White Noise

Disclaimer: It's blatantly obvious by this point in time who exactly owns Harry Potter, so is there really any other use for this pointlessly hanging banner aside from warding off snarky peckish fanfic trolls?

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**Chapter 4**

**White Noise**

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As much as a feathery nocturnal bird flying around the house in broad daylight would have infuriated Liam, an ominous black cat with one tail too much than it normally should have was an equal strain on the nerves of a man who already had enough trouble handling the facts that his wife Caroline had been a witch, his stepdaughter Christina seems to be the same, only apparently uneducated and with questionable self-control, and his own eight year old daughter Charlotte from the same witch mother had become a wild card, with one leg in and one out of the probability of being exactly like _them_. Frankly said, Liam Miller hadn't the foggiest what he was supposed to make of his own family ever since that wretched magic boarding school letter unlocked the dark secrets of the dubious past that his previously oh-so-faithful darling wife had led, now a supposed witch no more, but of such heritage no less. What a travesty had befallen the Millers of this quaint proper town!

And to top it all off, with the realization that his wife had lied to him all that time and with the uncertainty of what his own daughter might turn out to be, the freeloading stepdaughter with which he had struggled so much to find a mutual understanding, to communicate like they were almost passing for a true family, the jester daughter of the house who always seemed to get into trouble and never ceased her efforts to get a rise out of him and her little sister, that little_ witch_ was expected to go to a school for people of _their sort_, in order to further learn to harness magic which would empower her to do who-knows-what. And while that prospect frightened and angered him, the other option, the one that was explained to him in theory, where that magic might spiral out of control if unattended, seemed at least a tiny bit more frightening than allowing the troublesome brat to go to a boarding school for the good part of the year, away from prying neighbor eyes, where they would teach her to control her magic, keeping it at bay.

Or so he was told and he'd rather not await the consequences.

Now however, as he watched the two tailed hellish creature of a freak that he struggled to admit of belonging to the feline family, Liam once again felt his internal turmoil surfacing to external rage. And he would be damned if a proper self-respecting hard-working wage-earning drown man like himself would put up with such a blatant display of chaos unfolding in his very own living room.

"CHRISTINA! GET YOUR BLOODY DEMON CAT OUT OF MY LIVING ROOM BEFORE I KILL IT WITH MY TWO BARE HANDS!"

Chris jumped with a start in her swiveling desk chair, nearly shoving the keyboard aside when she whipped her head around the room in search of Samuel, the black cat with the ever present evil glint in his glowing poisonous green eyes, hoping that she had misheard her stepfather's yells from downstairs and the black two tailed furball of a troublemaking tyke was destroying some unimportant piece of furniture in the safety of her own room instead of the living room curtains it preferred. A loud crash and explosion was heard from the computer speakers and Chris winced both because of the damage she had taken in her potentially soon to be wasted straight five hours of gameplay _and_ because of the evident absence of the black feline menace who was supposed to stay strictly inside the walls of her room on orders from "King Liam the Miller family overlord." It was always a mystery exactly how the creature managed to escape, considering that the door and window were shut tightly, as was the wicker cage, and the room had no holes in the walls that she knew of, so the only viable explanation was that two tailed cats were either able to teleport or sneak out of cages, doors and windows quietly and unnoticeably, closing them in the process.

Another loud crash followed, this time from downstairs. "TOSSING WANKER!" Liam had apparently fetched his old crocket stick and planned to use it in a familiar experiment of how thick would a magical cat's skull be exactly, but unfortunately Sam had most probably landed upon the table lamp instead. "CHRISTINA! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO GET DOWN! DON'T MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF!"

Completely abandoning the newest hack and slash game she was speeding through ever since her mother had taken the time to mention that Hogwarts had no electricity or internet whatsoever and electronics didn't work there at all, Chris bolted from her room and flew down the stairs, appearing in a desecrated version of the usually unnervingly tidy living room with Liam climbed on top of the toppled sofa with his tie tied around his head, trying to reach the glowing eyes lurking in the darkness between the top of the book case and the ceiling. Shards of glass and porcelain, as well as scattered paper and pieces of the slashed curtains, littered the floor and furniture as if a barrage of Liams and demon cats had waged war through the same space of room at least three times over. She was afraid to ask what happened.

"Don't just stand there?!" Liam snapped at her as soon as she appeared at the door. "Get that tosser back inside his bloody prison right this instant! I don't care what kind of mumbo jumbo mojo you have to use, as long as the neighbors don't see it!" He whacked his crocket stick twice on the side of the bookcase in the general direction of the cat's glowing eyes in the crack under ceiling.

Not bothering to say anything about how harassing the animal would upset it more, Chris decided against agitating Liam further and instead stepped closer in front of the bookcase. Attempting to beckon the animal to voluntarily jump into her arms, she chanted, "here, kitty, kitty, come here, Sammy boy, I won't hurt you, I promise," although with not as much enthusiasm as she was supposed to, since she had a pretty good idea of what usually happened when Samuel decided to voluntarily jump her. It was a good thing that the scratches on her face and arms seemed to magically disappear overnight as if worrying about looking like she had gone through a shredder wished them away, which sadly was something that infuriated Liam even further, not just because it was unnatural, but because his own scratch marks, remnants of his now ten attempts of cutting the beast's life short, ended bad only for himself.

Samuel seemed to sneer from his dark sanctuary to both Liam and Chris and refused to move an inch, even though Chris had never done anything to wrong the cat, other than following Liam's orders to keep him locked up in her room, and recently, in the caged prison of the wicker pet carrier. Rather, she was more of Sammy's fleshy scratching pole punching bag when the cat was frustrated with his confinement. And he even seemed to enjoy causing trouble around the house, which would eventually be traced back to Chris, since she was the one holding all responsibility for him and he seemed to be very well aware of everything happening around him, a bit too much for a normal cat, not that his twin tails marked him as anything near deserving to be called normal.

"What on earth happened here?" Carol voiced from the front door, coming in with Shelly and groceries in hand, as she noticed the devastation all around the living room and the comical positions that Liam and Chris had adopted in front of the bookcase behind the overturned sofa.

"Sammy's loose!" Shelly squealed in joy and pointed when she spotted the cat's glowing green emeralds at the top of the bookcase.

Upon laying eyes on Caroline and Charlotte, Liam seemed to frown deeper as he bellowed, "I'll have that bloody feline castrated and both of its tails chopped off in under two minutes if Christina would stop pissing around to hurry up and fetch it from up there!"

"Oh, no, not Sammy!" Caroline exclaimed and came up to the bookcase. In one swift motion, the same time she began extending her hands, Samuel elegantly descended from the bookcase and snuggled in her bosom as she began caressing his fur. He was obviously still sneering maliciously at the agitated faces of Chris and Liam. "Stop treating poor Sammy like some sort of wild animal! You've hurt his feelings," Caroline cooed in a motherly tone as she stroked the cat in her arms and threw them accusatory looks, "Come now, Sammy, mummy's gotten you tasty tuna." She retreated to the kitchen with an equally as loving Shelly in tow who was also making an effort to stroke either of the cat's long black twin tails.

Liam turned back to Chris with a look that pointedly meant that this was all her fault and his face seemed to go through an array of suppressed emotions before he grunted at her like a riled up horse, "No internet! No computer! Not until you get that tossing black demon cat back in line!" Chris opened her mouth to protest and her face cringed into mild terror at the notion of living without those things but Liam was relentless. "I want him a docile one-tailed domestic house kitten even if it's the death of you, so long as you're upon the illusion that I have to be forced to put up with all of this!"

The curtains behind him screeched loudly as half the railing unhinged itself and fell, swinging in a fluid semi-circle right into the glass of the windows, breaking it with a distinguishable clear shatter. The rest of the curtain and its railing continued to unhinge and fall the rest of the way down, causing a loud thump, vibration on the floor and cracking on glass shards as it rolled on the carpet. Chris had closed her eyes half way and ducked slightly but even this way she could still see some veins pulsating and even an eye twitching on Liam's horribly distorted face of sheer anger.

"Room," he seethed in a growl as calmly as he could muster, "now."

Chris didn't wait for a second invitation to flee the site of destruction as fast as humanly possible. And even as she could hear the start of yet another argument between Liam and her mother and how he yelled at Shelly to also retreat to her room, Chris didn't dare go back to playing her game from sheer fear of making the man angrier than he currently was. Instead, she opted to arm herself with a pair of large headphones from her bed headboard and play anything on her phone's music player, as long as it would be played loud enough for her to forget who, where and when she was. She wanted to forget, because she hated to think and acknowledge what was happening in this place she called home. She was almost glad that she was going to go away for the school year, but at the same time, she knew that what waited for her here when she had to come back wouldn't go away and that she was part of the problem, if not the ignition point.

- x x x -

"Okay, Chrissie, this is it! You still have about fifteen minutes," Caroline announced to her daughter as she pulled up the trolley in front of the painfully familiar dividing barrier between platforms nine and ten on the morning of September the first at King's Cross station. It was busy as ever, with people hurrying about to board a couple of relatively new electric trains on both platforms. "You remember what I told you, right?"

Chris gulped, staring at the very, _very, _solid barrier between the platforms. No matter how she looked at it, it was hardly possible for her to go through a wall _that_ solid, magical barrier or not. But maybe the jitters she was having since yesterday evening that hardly let her sleep the night were getting to her and she was worrying too much. What if the barrier only worked if you believed in it? What if it doesn't let her pass through and she missed her train?

"Once again, just walk straight at it, don't stop, don't turn back and don't worry about it. There's nothing else to it, dear," her mother soothed and caressed her hair which Chris had taken the time to brush more carefully that morning. Well, she did so mostly because she spaced out in her nervousness and forgot what she was doing, so now her hair somehow looked the glossiest that it had ever been, which was never, although now it might probably be more prone to static than usual.

What if that static in her hair stopped her from entering the platform? What if she forgot to pack her socks? How was that relevant to a magical barrier?

"If you're still worried," Caroline crouched so she was almost at eye level with her daughter, "try to imagine that there's no barrier at all. Think of it as air that you're simply passing through." She smiled kindly at her daughter as her warm brown eyes twinkled. "Does that help?"

Chris finally felt herself calming down as her mother's thumbs brushed over her smaller hands a couple of times and she gave back a fraction of her mother's beaming smile. "I guess."

She mused how Shelly would have loved to witness her older sister disappear behind a solid wall, a true act of magic, different from the strange books and items she brought back from _the secret magical market_, as Shelly called it, and the weird two tailed black cat that was uncharacteristically asleep inside the shadows of its wicker pet carrier on the very top of the trolley. But she had already said her goodbyes with Shelly who had to stay in the car against her will by the higher authority of _King_ _Liam_ himself. Thinking of her sour stepfather, Chris once again worried about how things had started spiraling downwards at home ever since she found out she was a witch and her mother was the one to shoulder everything upon herself, ever smiling like she was just now, assuring everyone that everything was okay.

Chris threw arms over her mother's shoulders in a hearty embrace that lasted a good minute. "Mum," she pulled back and tried to hold herself not to cry, because she was supposed to be an older sister of two, the stronger one, "it's okay if I don't go, I won't mind, just as long as everything goes back to normal." But she couldn't hold it in. As soon as that sentence left her mouth, one she had held bottled up in the remaining days of summer vacation, what also came out was an inaudible sob that seemed to turn a switch and tears leaked down her cheeks as her entire face reddened. Startled by the sudden change in her daughter's behavior, Caroline also had to struggle to keep a smile in place, which involuntarily turned into sad one.

"Come now, Chrissie, you know it's best that you do go," she said, stroking and wiping her daughter's tears dry. "We'll be alright, all of us will be, I assure you. Better than you accidentally cursing the whole neighborhood, isn't that right?"

Chris let out a small laugh masked as a sob and sniffed. "Yeah. I'm being stupid."

"No, no, you're not. Don't say that," Caroline held her forearms firmly as she spoke, "You're just a bit scared and it's perfectly normal."

"Aren't you going to come with me to the platform?" Chris had stopped crying but her face was red and puffy as she murmured to her mother like the child she barely still was.

"I can't. I have to hurry back." Caroline gave that kind sad smile of hers and looked down, starting to fix the buttons on Chris' cardigan that the girl had probably mismatched earlier that morning. "Where you'll be going, Chrissie," she looked back up into her daughter's eyes, "I cannot follow." She held Chris' gaze like that for a couple of seconds until her resolve faltered and she looked away again. "I hope you know what I'm trying to say." Chris didn't answer but in some way she understood, although it would have probably taken her some years later to fully register the meaning of her mother's words.

"Straight ahead and no turning back?" Chris simply asked.

Caroline smiled warmly. "No turning back."

And with a final kiss goodbye and a promise for the Christmas holidays, Chris had disappeared behind the solid barrier between the platforms nine and ten at King's Cross station.

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- x x x -

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If you review, you get one imaginary cookie and a large helping of thanks from this aspiring pseudo not-so-much-a-true-writer-at-all.


	5. All Aboard the Maverick Express

Disclaimer: I've had my first review and I'm so elated! Choo choo mothafuckas! (I swear, my disclaimers are getting more and more improper by the chapter.)

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**Chapter 5**

**All Aboard the Maverick Express**

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There was no impact, just a change of air, like she had gone through a door outside on a warm breezy day, and Chris opened her eyes, which she just realized she had closed when she had charged the barrier. White steam shifted around an endearingly old fashioned platform as a sea of gleeful young and old witches and wizards moved in small and large groups, levitating trunks and hugging their children. Chris hadn't realized where or when exactly had this place been hidden among a station so crowded as King's Cross right smack in the middle of London but she was too overwhelmed by the sights and smells to dwell too much over such a small matter and brushed it off just like she'd done with Diagon Alley. What was even more enticing was the view of a large live scarlet steam engine train which oddly enough didn't seem as much out of place there as the modern suitcase on Chris' trolley that was getting quite a few glances.

Realizing that she might be the strange one instead, since everyone else had trunks of polished wood and leather bags of nice quality, Chris hurried her trolley forward, hoping that no one was going to make fun of her suitcase of plastic and metal large enough not only for clothes but for a small cauldron and all of her heavy school books worth a good bit of gold coins. Galleons was it? Her mother had explained a lot of things but it was all still new to her.

She passed a strange red haired man, a wizard no doubt, since he was reciting broom regulations in a loud authoritive voice and she asked one of the uniformed conductors to help her lift her cat and luggage onto the train. With one look at her suitcase the conductor gathered it was what he called a muggle trunk and he informed her he was going to take care of it and that she could board the train freely and without further worry. Chris figured he might have thought she was raised by muggles just as that Charles boy had noticed about her on Diagon Alley, which might as well have been the case, since her mother had made an effort not to drop even a single hint of her heritage for all those years. Chris didn't know how exactly was she making the fact of being raised as any other normal child so blatantly obvious but she was overly glad that Charles was right about another thing, that it didn't matter she was different.

Wondering if she could find the pale black haired boy from Madam Malkin's aboard the magical Hogwarts Express, Chris ducked under a flock of paper sparrows flying by themselves and climbed onto the train. As she ventured down the narrow corridor, squeezing between the walls and students her age and older running about, she peered through the glass windows of every compartment she passed in search for any sign of Charles' blank impassive face features. She saw a lot of interesting people inside he compartments she checked.

A very handsome laid back older boy with a long blond ponytail was recalling his trip to Egypt during the summer, where he happened upon a small skirmish of two dusty old mummies fighting over which had the coziest and best guarded sarcophagus. He was making a big impression on three giggling charming girls on the seats across, two of which looked almost identical, but all three seemed almost certainly related. His two mates sitting next to him, another set of twins, laughed along more heartedly than the adoring girls. One of the boys was quieter than the other with the shorter hair, but both of them were equally as stunning as all of the occupants of the compartment. To Chris it was as if they were in a whole other league and she felt they were supposed to be some kind of celebrities, most definitely part of the popular crowd.

The next compartment was occupied by three girls and two boys not so much older than herself who seemed a lot more normal than the good looking group beforehand, if not for the strange card game they were playing, which reminded Chris of good old Snap until one of the cards burst into a small explosion, charring the face of one of the boys, the one with an expression already sour enough before the card had further ruined his mood. Almost in the same manner as the card, the boy exploded in a fit of rage and flung the rest of the cards in the air, shouting about how stupid was something called _Exploding Snap_ as one of the girls, the blond one, laughed obnoxiously along with the boy next to her, who was insistent on playing with spinning around his wand in his hand as if doing that wasn't reckless at all, like he was merely holding a drumstick. The last two girls just shook their heads in exasperation, tired with their friends' silly antics.

The train slowly started moving with a loud whistle and a stagger forward and a beautiful platinum blonde older girl went past Chris, entered the next compartment and started a heated discussion about some boy she was dating with her equally as attractive three friends, one of which could pass as her sister if not for the red hair and complimentary freckles. Momentarily stunned by the blonde's satin sleek hair and the silvery glow which seemed to emanate from her, Chris had to remind herself to stop getting distracted by her amazing magical upperclassmen and continue her search down the corridor.

After swarms and swarms of students she was beginning to feel discouraged until she noticed an unusually quiet compartment where a large group of students her age in expensive looking dark robes and carefully groomed hairstyles had gathered. As odd as they were with the way they were murmuring something to eachother in a conspiratory manner, what stood out to Chris more was that familiar short black hair and the pale outline of an expressionless face mirrored looking outside the compartment window at the scenery racing past, completely uninterested in whatever his fellow occupants were so secretively addressing. It was Charles Nott, Chris was sure of it. But just when her face beamed and she was about to slide the door to greet him, one of the girls shot her an entirely purposeful mean glare and the entire conversation inside ceased to a halt as the others also turned to her with looks that were meant to make her disappear if they actually had the power and freedom to do so. Correctly assuming she was strongly unwelcome there, Chris backed several steps sideways and away from the hostile compartment, bidding a mental farewell to the back of Charles' head.

When she was about to turn around however, she missed to register the sound of a compartment door sliding open and her shoulder collided with someone.

"Whoa! Careful there, short stuff!" Chris muttered a quick sorry and tried to stalk off, embarrassed for not minding where she was going, but the boy blocked her way, his face glowing in an alarmingly cheerful way. "Hey, hey, wait now, why the hurry?"

Chris raised her head to throw him a quizzical look and had half a mind to flee back to the compartment with the mean well-groomed kids but something else closed her other escape route.

"You're a first year, aren't you?" The other boy, one with a darker complexion and his hair in a messy attempt of a low bun, grinned mischievously at her and exchanged looks with his friend.

"Why, you're right, Freddie! We could use some fresh meat!"

She whipped her head back, this time in alarm, at the first boy, the one with the messy black hair and glowing expression, but his smile only grew wider at the face she made.

"Yes, yes, I know, I know," he began, his hand rising to his inflated chest, "I admit I really am James Potter, the one and only, legacy of both Harry Potter the boy who lived, the Chosen One, the living legend, head of the Ministry of Magic Auror Office, former Gryffindor Quidditch team captain and seeker, and Ginny Potter, former chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet. Not to mention the late Marauder, Prongs, my granddad, James Potter the first, a magnificent chaser and former Gryffindor Quidditch team captain!" he recited in a heartbeat, as if the lines were well rehearsed.

"Well, technically, you're not really the one and only, Jamesie," the other boy interjected, "but it's amusing how you conveniently looked over Al and Lil in that ridiculous self-promoting introduction of yours. You also completely disregarded the rest of the family having little to do with the noble sport of Quidditch, which is to be expected of a bloated arse like you. Grandmum would weep."

Her confusion deepening, none of those things stroke a cord with Chris who was having a hard time following the conversation, let alone remembering the names and titles thrown here and there in the former boy's obnoxious tirade.

"And this bloody git," not missing a beat, James continued as if never interrupted, motioning grandly towards the boy behind Chris, "is me best mate, Fred Weasley. Grand man," he emphasized half-sarcastically, sending a pointed look to the snickering boy. "First cousins we are. Man's the legacy of former Gryffindor Quidditch team captain and superb chaser Angelina Johnson as well as former Gryffindor beaters and pranksters Fred and George Weasley, founders of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"Located at Number 93 Diagon Alley and a convenient for Hogwarts students branch in Hogsmeade. Feel free to spread the word," Fred added as if this had turned into an infomercial.

Chris was finding it impossible to keep up with the two so she made a subtle attempt to squeeze herself between James and the corridor wall and make a run for it but her little plan was thwarted by the deceitful narrowness of the corridor and the fast thinking of James and Fred who lifted her up by the forearms and delivered her inside their compartment where two more boys sat, amused beyond their wits. James seated her next to a handsome dark haired boy in a sharp white button up who threw his arm over the back of her seat and a sly grin made its way across his face.

"Richard. Richard Beckett," he announced in a refined accent and one of his eyebrows shifted playfully as if he was imitating James Bond and was sparing her the trouble of prying the name off of him, causing Chris to involuntarily shift away into James's seat.

"But we call him Dickie," Fred voiced and Richard's good mood turned sour.

"Fancies himself a ladies man," James popped beside Chris' head, making her jump away from the realization that she was too close for comfort to both James _and_ Richard. "Like our half French cousin Louie, only this lad here's an English charmer."

"Or at least _Dickie_ likes to think that way," Fred couldn't refrain from adding, "Modesty's not his forte."

"Modesty is for those who have no other qualities to brag about," Richard grumbled, his ego wounded, and he finally retracted his hand from the top of Chris' seat to cross his arms defiantly. "Wouldn't you agree, love?" he tried his luck one last time, eyes darting under black locks to beckon Chris to choose his side, even giving her a small smirk and a wink.

"He can twist your leg all day long, though," James bent over and warned in a serious tone, shaking his head slowly just as Chris felt like warming up only slightly to Richard's friendly charms but she caught herself.

"And you'll believe him every step of the way." Fred grinned evilly and the other boy next to him snickered. "Even catch yourself doing his bidding." His eyes twinkled with mischief. "He's got a sleight of hand as good as his way with words."

Chris eyed Richard's seemingly innocent smirking face with a bit of doubt, inching away a tiny bit. Surely he was harmless enough. Those boys were pulling her leg. She couldn't even understand half the things they were endlessly babbling about. But just as she gave him the benefit of the doubt, he swiftly reached behind her ear and before she could brush him off, he produced her smartphone, which she had snuck past her mother and it should have stayed safely hidden inside her pocket. Chris gasped, hands flying to her jean pockets, where the device was unnervingly absent. Her eyes widened at Richard, about to ask him how he did that.

"Muggle magic, love. Don't look so startled, you'll catch a fly." His smirk grew exponentially at his triumph as he rolled her phone between his fingers with expert ease. Chris closed her involuntarily gaping mouth begrudgingly, remembering she was surrounded by born and raised wizards who seemed to be mocking her, and she opted to snatch back her phone mid-twist from between his slack fingers, pocketing it once again and throwing the thieving boy an accusatory look. "Oh, don't give me that look. You won't be needing the thing anyway, muggle devices don't work in our school." The whole situation was a laugh and a half to the rest of the boys and their incessant snickering.

"Give her a break, Dick. Don't scare off the first year right off the bat," the last of the boys, a tall lanky fellow, tried to make peace when his giggles, the loudest of the bunch, subsided. "You're gonna ruin everything!"

"Yeah, _Dick_, she's eleven," James offered with a shrug.

"Yeah, _Dick_, she's underage," Fred added, all three now sporting a grin threatening to spill into more laughter at the look on Richard's exasperated face.

"Yeah. _Dick._ I get it."

The boys' amusement halted as they turned to the person most unlikely to throw a punch line like that and Chris stared back with little to no emotion in her deadpan expression. She was getting tired of their playing around with her. She didn't wish to meet these people. They seemed a little insane, mostly highly annoying.

"She speaks!" James beamed and exclaimed, throwing his hands up as if he'd just won a prize, and the whole group, save for Chris, exploded into loud cheers, punching fists in the air and exchanging elated high-fives. The poor girl couldn't help but rub hands over her face and let out a loud groan, wishing very much to rid herself of the group of weirdos that had practically kidnapped her for their own amusement. She was supposed to find a normal quiet compartment to slip into and mope about how she was chased away by the mean preppy kids after all the trouble she went through to find the Charles boy.

"Oh, come now, love, lighten up," Richard shoved her lightly with his elbow, urging her to have fun along with them. But the only thing she wanted was to get out of there as soon as she found an opening.

"We can't seem that bad, can we?" the tall lanky boy smiled nicely, Fred and James nodding eagerly, though she was reluctant to trust the two of them. "I'm Adrian. Adrian Wood. Here," he offered his hand politely, which Chris regarded with suspicion. But he did seem like the most normal of the bunch, so she smiled faintly and reached out to accept his peace offering.

"Thanks, I'm Chris_—_"

The moment she touched his palm a small shock went through her hand with a buzz and her whole body jolted for a second before she quickly drew back in fear that he used some sort of magic to shock her but when she stared with a frightened look from Adrian's seemingly innocent face to some small device on the inside of his hand, it donned upon her. All four of the boys exploded in contagious laughter, patting Adrian on his back for a job well done. Chris frowned, eyeing them all with the worst glare her childish face could muster. She definitely didn't like them now, if that was what they were aiming for.

"Sorry for that, I just couldn't help it," Adrian let out as he tried to still his laugher, demonstrating how the device worked as he pressed it again with his thumb and it buzzed. "Made it myself," he bragged, but the significance of the achievement was lost on Chris as she was still busy with pouting and rubbing her palm defensively.

"Addie here is the most inventive lad there is," James explained, a bit of pride showing for his mate, although Chris couldn't figure out what was so inventive about a prank toy so old and overused in cartoons that hardly anyone remembered it, let alone still considering it a comical gold mine. But maybe wizards were a bit behind on muggle children's toys and this was as fun and innovative as it got. "And don't let his lankiness fool ya'. If you need anything done, he's your man!" James announced, seemingly in the mood for another one of his little rehearsed speeches. "Fast in the legs, mind and yapper he is. Brilliant, yet mad!" Adrian seemed to pretend to feel flattered, shooing James with a wave of his hand. Chris just rolled her eyes, mentally adding that all of them were just as talkative as James claimed Adrian to be, if not more so. "Legacy of one Oliver Wood, professional Quidditch player for Puddlemere United_—_" Chris was beginning to grasp that all those titles, names and teams thrown in the air were actually a real thing and meant something which was supposed to impress her but she was too afraid to start asking this particular group any kind of questions in fear of never being able to rid herself of them. "_—_though the same goes for his amazing older sister," he paused to sigh longingly, "Ellie. Current Gryffindor Quidditch team captain. Fifth year."

"No kidding, she has me hands down," Fred swooned and they both nodded in appreciation of the variously gifted female captain.

"Oh, sod off, the both of you!" Adrian snapped them out of their brief mental detour before they could start drooling on the compartment floor, not really keen on his mates daydreaming about his older sister.

"Yes. Right. Um..." James cleared his throat, absentmindedly pulling Chris by the shoulder to sit back down as she tried once again to wriggle out of the compartment. "What was your name again?"

"Chris," she deadpanned, pretty sure by this point that she didn't want these people to know anything more than that about her.

"Yes! Chris!" James continued in an orderly manner, throwing an arm around Chris' shoulders to still her in place as he gave grand gestures to his explanations with his other when he dove into a seemingly random narrative, "Freddie and I were just on our merry way to spread word of our newly formed little group of merrymakers_—_"

"Founded in this very train," Fred supplied importantly.

"This very morning," Richard added in a more amused tone.

"Moments before our freshly established leader stepped foot outside this very compartment," Adrian right out snickered at the notion.

"And lo and behold!" James patted Chris' shoulder heavily. "Lady Fate had left you right on our doorstep with a message clearly saying _adopt me_!"

"Again with the Harry Potter references, the show off," Chris heard Richard mutter under his nose but she was more worried by where James was heading with his mention of her stumbling upon their small game of make belief.

"So now that you've been properly acquainted with everyone, we're going to recruit you!" James announced happily as if it were a logical thing to do. "I'm thinking of calling us the Mavericks. It has a Marauder kind of ring to it, don't you think?" The others nodded eagerly.

"HUH?!" was the only sound Chris could make in her obvious confusion. That meant all of the borderline bullying up to this point was James trying to make her feel welcome enough to join their silly little gang of goofballs and he expected her to agree in a heartbeat.

"As if!" the protest stuck in her throat was voiced by another female which had popped up at the compartment door, a girl with shoulder length black hair with her blonde friend hovering behind her in the corridor. Both of them looked very familiar to Chris and when the blonde raised her snickering head over the other's shoulder, Chris recognized them as two of the girls from the group of friends playing the strange game of Exploding Snap a few compartments away.

"Selena! Cassie!" Richard was the first to react, adding a feint purr to his voice as he said the girls' names. "Fancy seeing you ladies seek our humble audience."

"Oh, shove it, Beckett," the dark haired girl brushed him off easily, obviously being the one addressed as Selena, as Cass behind her gave another chuckle at the ruthless rejection.

"Well, what a coincidence," James began, regaining his composure after registering the small inconvenience that had emerged, "Freddie and I were just on our merry way to find you guys and talk business when_—_"

"I heard you, Potter," she casually interrupted the boy, snatching him up by the ear to easily make him stand up and let go of Chris' shoulders. "You were taking a while and we got worried that you got caught by some prefect but instead we find you tormenting some poor first year!"

"No, I, Selena, it's not_—_" James heaved a small high-pitched wince as Selena twist his ear in a way that he had to twist his whole body around with it in attempt to lessen the pain. A round of snickering rose from the boys and Cass, aimed at James' suffering.

"Save it for Nora and Montgomery when you have to explain what took you so long."

The girl guided him out of the compartment by his ear, disappearing down the corridor, just when more laughter was expelled at the way James was forced to walk with his behind up in the air. Cass motioned with a grinning head to Fred and they followed, leaving Chris alone with Richard and Adrian. She stood up slowly, pausing at the door to give them both a calculating look, but with the absence of their leader they didn't really seem to mind her escaping, already absorbed in some lighthearted discussion over how Selena always gave Richard the cold shoulder, so Chris managed slip out without much of an effort.

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- x x x -

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I wrote this chapter while I was on an express train myself. Ones in my country are slow, shabby and bouncy enough to recreate an adequate experience and atmosphere similar to the one I tried writing. Maybe exactly because of the Hogwarts Express I read about when I was eight do I love riding the train so much. Especially ones which travel for the most part of the day or night, it's the most adventure I get every three months or so, crossing my country from one end to the other.

Please review, since I'm such a good sport. ^^


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